Velvet Underworld
by Chyna Rose
Summary: AU Madness is its own reason. Fourteen years after Harry is unofficially adopted following the death of his parents, Harry finds himself in the most unenviable of positions. Fifteen and pregnant, his world has spiraled out of control. Poor Harry.
1. Chapter One

Velvet Underworld  
By Chyna Rose  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K.R. Weiss Kreuz belongs to Project W. I am neither, therefore I don't own either series. The title is aslo the name of the first Weiss Kreuz opening song. That also belongs to Project W.  
Rating: PG-13  
Status: 1/?  
Warning: AU, Mpreg, slash, borderline chan, dark!Harry, language, adult situations.  
Spoilers: Harry Potter - up to GoF. Weiss Kreuz - episode 18.  
Summary: Madness is its own reason. Fourteen years after Harry is (unofficially) adopted following the death of his parents, Harry finds himself in the most unenviable of positions. Fifteen and pregnant, his world has spiraled out of control. Poor Harry.   
Archive: FFN, the archive of the groups this is posted in, and the Void. Anyone else just ask.  
Author's Note: This is in response to Blaise's challenge on the harrypottermpreg ML: a What If, if Harry was raised by a family from another book/movie/series. All you need to know about Weiss Kreuz is that Crawford's clairvoyant, Schuldig's a telepath, Farfarello's a psychotic who can't feel physical pain, Nagi is a telekinetic, and the four of them work as a mercenary/assassin team. Anything between two 's denote telepathic communication. Feedback is appreciated. Flames are laughed at.   
  
I don't remember much about my mother; just terrified screams and the color green. I used to have nightmares about her. Vague images, sounds, and emotions that left me panting, awake, and in need of new sheets.  
  
My father figures that I saw my mother being murdered right in front of me. Well, he's not **really** my father. You see, when I was a baby my real parents were killed, and their house destroyed. Miraculously, I managed to survive that night with only a little scratch. It wasn't until years later that I found out the truth.  
  
I guess I was a pretty well adjusted kid; if you considered my circumstances. No one can watch their family be butchered right in front of them and not have **some** kind of emotional problem. The fact that I was so young is probably why I come off as so normal. Not many people remember what happened when they were one. My dad on the other hand…  
  
For as long as I could remember, it's just been the four of us. We were, and always will be, an atypical family. Technically, it's just me and my guardian Brad Crawford (although now, I have a brother of sorts - Crawford took on a second ward a few years ago); the other two are just his roommates and business partners. But in reality all three of them are my parents (although Schuldig acts more like an annoying older brother).  
  
Growing up, I never thought of my life as abnormal. But then, I had no way of knowing differently. Your world view - your basic beliefs, what's normal, what is or isn't possible - gets set in childhood based on your environment. Strange things happened around me all my life - bouts of what I now know was wandless magic - and my fathers didn't even blink an eye. They might be 'Muggles', but that doesn't mean that they see anything different about magic. Magic for me was like Farfarello's god complex, Schuldig's avoidance of work, and the stick up Crawford's ass (Schuldig's words; not mine). It is what made us us. And to us, it was perfectly normal.  
  
Which is probably why it wasn't a huge surprise when I got a letter from Hogwarts by owl when I was eleven (or ten depending on which birthday you went by). Of course, there isn't much that can surprise us in the first place. That's just how things are. Anyway, that summer I got a letter from Hogwarts informing me that I was a wizard and had the opportunity of attending one of the best schools for witchcraft in the world. Needless to say it didn't take much debating for me to send them a positive reply.  
  
I must admit that I caused something of a scandal when I actually managed to get to the school. You have to understand that due to the circumstances of my… adoption… I had no idea who I really was. And 'Harry Potter' was believed to have died the night that he (I) destroyed Voldermort. Apparently my dad found me and took me before anyone had a chance to come and get me to give to my aunt on my mother's side of the family (my only living relatives). I've known for practically forever that I was adopted; my dad used to tell me the story about how I was a foundling while he was trying to get me to go to sleep at night. But they never knew my real name or birthday. I mean, it wasn't like they had anyone to ask about it. So imagine what happened when Muggle born Azrael Crawford turned out to be Harry Potter - back from the dead after eleven years. And sorted into Slytherin.  
  
I swear that some of the professors were going to have heart attacks when it was realized who I truly was. They just sat there at the high table completely gob-smacked. Not that I can blame them. It's not every day that a national hero virtually comes back from the dead.  
  
And then there was the matter of my House. In some ways, the Wizarding world is more prejudicial than the Muggle world. Please keep in mind that so far my knowledge of the Wizarding world extends to the British one - and to a lesser extent, the European one. It could be vastly different in other parts of the world, but I'm not in a position to know. One of these biases is dependant on the House system of Hogwarts. Instead of it being a dorming system that fosters unity and a healthy competitive attitude (much like Color Wars in summer camps), it dictates your whole life. You see, Slytherin is the House of 'dark' wizards - especially those who come from long established blood lines. And as I managed to destroy the last Dark Lord before I could even talk or walk… Let's just say that it wasn't a good sign and I lost a lot potential friends and leave it at that.  
  
Needless to say, I survived my first year at Hogwarts just fine. I managed to pass all my classes with, if not stellar marks, than at least decent ones. Me and the student body came to an understanding; I leave them alone as long as they leave me alone. While it meant that I was effectively a loner, it also meant that I didn't inadvertently hurt someone. A somewhat nasty temper when provoked and a sharp tongue quickly afforded me peace and a reputation that I only partially deserved. That year also was the year that Crawford became the guardian of an eleven year old boy from Japan named Naoe Nagi, and I encountered my first professor casualty. Professor Quirrell, who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, was found dead in a room off of a corridor on the third floor. No one knew what happened to him; only that he was somewhere where he didn't belong, trying to get something he didn't own.  
  
I also survived my second year reasonably well, and just as socially isolated. More so when it was revealed that I could talk to snakes. Apparently that ability, Parseltonuge, is a sign of a 'dark' wizard. Pretty foolish if you ask me since snakes aren't evil creatures, but rather beneficial as long as you don't mess with them (especially the venomous varieties). But that's a rant for another time. That year it also turned out that a possessed first year was setting a basilisk loose in the school (although I was the main suspect. Never mind that I didn't have any reason to do it; I was a Parselmouth Slytherin, so I **had** to be behind it). The basilisk was killed, as was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Lockhart (a big fake and glory hound), and the girl was saved. Yay.  
  
Third year brought the escape of my godfather, Sirius Black, from the local wizarding prison Azkaban. My godfather had been sent there shortly after my parents' death for the mass murder of a bunch of Muggles, the murder of a wizard, and the betrayal of the location of my parents' home, which directly lead to their death. He now is also being charged with the assault and attempted murder of a fellow student (a Gyrffindor). To this date, Sirius Black remains at large, professing his innocence in the entire matter. Again we lost our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Lupin, when it became public knowledge that he was a werewolf - a known 'dark' creature. Professor Lupin quietly resigned from the post in order to avoid the massive upheaval that a werewolf teaching students would've caused.  
  
Last year, my fourth year, was definitely memorable. The Triwizard Tournament, a competition between the three main Wizarding schools in Europe, was held for the first time in over a century. Hogwarts won, but there were a few problems. Namely that a third party entered a student without their knowledge or consent. It was also the year that Voldemort returned (or was rumored to, depending on your sources).  
  
Which leads me to today. Or rather tonight if you want to get technical about it; the sun set a few hours ago. Currently, I'm sitting in the Headmaster's office with Crawford and Schuldig, who act as my guardians in all legal matters. While I love Farfarello like a true father, he has been classified as completely insane, and can barely be held accountable for his own actions - let alone those of a minor. This is a great disservice to him. He's perfectly aware of what he's doing, and if it's right or wrong. He just doesn't really care.  
  
"We came as soon as we heard that you wanted to see us about matters concerning Azrael. What is it that you wished to discuss with us?"  
  
This isn't the first time I've that been called to the Headmaster's office. If there is some mad scheme going around the school, chances are that I am somehow involved - however unwittingly. That I haven't been expelled is due to the fact that I'm never at fault for the trouble. Or at least, it can't be proven that I'm at fault. Without proof, all you have is wild speculation and baseless accusation. However, my luck when it came to getting out of trouble without a scratch couldn't last forever. And really, I only have myself to blame. But in my defense, there was no way that I could've predicted this outcome. I am, after all, no psychic. And even psychics can't know everything.  
  
"It seems that we have a unique problem on our hands. On that hasn't appeared in centuries" Dumbledore began. Of course he wasn't fooling anyone. We all knew why we were here. I had fucked up royally. While I don't know how much Crawford knew before the meeting, Schuldig would've picked it up in minutes and told Crawford. Crawford more than any of us, **hated** being surprised. Dumbledore, of course was completely oblivious to the… talents… of my family. They were Muggles after all, and unable to do anything within the realm of magic.  
  
So naughty our Engel has been. Crawford is **very** displeased with you right now.  
  
Stuff it Schuldig.  
  
Now, now Todesengel . You need to respect your elders.  
  
Since when are you an elder?  
  
"How serious is this?" Crawford asked, bringing me and Schuldig out of our mental conversation (if it could even be called that).  
  
"Quite serious I'm afraid. Serious enough to require a Ministry inquiry."   
  
Dumbledore stopped here to gaze at each of us in turn. I was, as you could imagine, quite embarrassed and slouching in my chair in the hopes that it would suddenly become carnivorous (much to Schuldig's personal delight). Schuldig had made himself right at home; lounging in his armchair like he belonged there. Crawford sat formally in his, staring Dumbledore down with his usual expressionless face. Which was of absolutely no help to the Headmaster since it made it virtually impossible for him to read them. Which threw the elder man completely off balance. One of the things Dumbledore prided himself on was his ability to read and manipulate people (although he'd never admit it). Of course he probably never came up against a master manipulator like Schuldig. Needless to say, their apparent lack of expression threw Dumbledore and left him floundering for the best way to approach the situation (which is exactly Crawford and Schuldig were trying to do. Both of them take perverse pleasure from that kind of thing).  
  
"I am sure that we can handle whatever it is that Azrael did wrong without involving the authorities."  
  
"Oh no. Azrael isn't in any trouble. Well, not in the classic sense of the word."  
  
"Then why did you wish to speak with us? I had gotten the impression that it was an urgent matter that required our immediate attention."  
  
"Because you are his legal guardian. Since Azrael is underage, it is up to you and Mr. Schuldig to decide about pressing charges."  
  
"I am afraid that I do not quite understand. What kind of charges are you talking about?"  
  
"Hogwarts, like any other school, is not immune to the call of teenage hormones" Dumbledore began, looking for the best way to put things so that he could be understood, "While we do our best to discourage the students form acting on these impulses, a few always manage to find a way to circumvent our precautions."  
  
"And this effects Azrael how exactly?"  
  
"It has come to my attention that Azrael has become sexually involved with one of my staff. Aside from being highly unusually and highly inappropriate, as Azrael is still underage, it also becomes a criminal matter and **will** be under investigation with the professor in question being relieved of his duties to the school. There is also the matter of jail time, but that depends on whether or not you wish to press charges against him."  
  
The reaction that Dumbledore got to this was definitely **not** what he was expecting. Instead of a blanket denial questioning his sanity and sources, or an outcry of kill the pervert, both Crawford and Schuldig turned to face me. I could tell without the benefit of any kind of supernatural powers that they weren't happy with me at all. I could only hope that they would wait until we were alone before they'd start in with the lectures.  
  
"What have I told you about fucking your teachers?" Schuldig asked in a bored tone (mostly to annoy Crawford; one of his favorite pastimes).  
  
"If you're going to do it, don't get caught."  
  
"Schuldig…"  
  
"What? He should know **some** discretion by now."  
  
"That's not what I meant and you know it."  
  
"Of course I was discrete. I'm not an idiot you know!"  
  
I know that I shouldn't have snapped at them like that. Especially not in front of Dumbledore, who collected seemingly random information the way that others collected Chocolate Frog cards. But quite frankly, I felt like shit. All I wanted to do was find a quiet corner and curl up for a month or two. Not that I was actually going to be allowed to do so. The issue of the supposed rape still had to be addressed, and I was not looking forward to loosing my lover.  
  
If you were as discrete as you claim, then how did you get caught, hmm?  
  
Fuck you!  
  
Ah, Engel, I didn't know you cared. But what would your lover think?  
  
I hate it when Schuldig is right. I hate it when he knows perfectly well what the answer is but asks anyway. I hate it how his obnoxious laughter rings in your head when he's enjoying your annoyance at him. And I hate the fact that it's taking all of my willpower not to puke all over the Headmaster's carpet. At least he hasn't brought out the sweets and tea.  
  
"There are a few other matters that we need to discuss. Matters that may effect your decision" Dumbledore continued, still trying to gauge a reaction from Crawford.  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"It seems that young Azrael is pregnant."  
  
"I am not sure what you mean. How can he be pregnant?"  
  
"Because of the innate amount of magic within them, it is possible for wizard to conceive and sustain a pregnancy. Normally this is done through a collection of spells and potions, which are heavily regulated by the Ministry. However, that is not the only way in which a male pregnancy can occur. They can also be the result of an accident or curse cast by another individual. In rare cases, it has been known to occur spontaneously - provided that both wizards are sufficiently powerful. There is even one recorded case where a very powerful wizard was able to conceive without the involvement of another wizard through sheer will and magic alone. Although some say that he simply would not - or could not - name the other father."  
  
"Aside from the pregnancy itself - provided that wizards can get pregnant like you say - how will this effect Azrael?"  
  
"The Wizarding world looks down on children born out of wedlock. In many ways, we are still a traditional society. Arranged marriages are still practiced by a number of the older families. And it is not unknown for a student to find him or herself betrothed to a much older spouse. It is no longer very common, but it still happens even today. In fact when I was a student, it was common for witches to enter the school already married."  
  
"What are you suggesting?"  
  
"While sleeping with and impregnating a student is a serious offence, doing so to your husband - even if he was underage - is another matter altogether."  
  
"Obviously. However Azrael isn't married now, despite being pregnant. How do you propose we circumvent that?"  
  
"I'm glad you asked. You see, Azrael and Severus - our resident potions professor and the father of Azrael's child - couldn't wait until they were legally married before exploring the physical side of their relationship. After all, what is wrong with a wanting to give in to your lust when there is no doubt that the two of you will marry? The pregnancy will just speed things up."  
  
"That is quite cleaver. But will this plan of yours hold up under scrutiny?"  
  
"The Potters and the Snapes are both old families. I believe I saw an old betrothal contract between the two families while I was going through the Potter estate as executor upon James and Lilly Potter's death. Naturally I have been keeping it safe here at Hogwarts until such time as it was needed."  
  
"Naturally."  
  
"It is virtually impossible for a third party to successfully contest such a betrothal contract - especially if neither of the named parties in the contract object to fulfilling the contract. One would of course wonder why the third party is against the contract, and that person might just find themselves under undue suspicion. Of course if you, as Azreal's legal guardian, have a problem with the betrothal and proposed marriage, I'm sure we can work out an alternate plan for Azrael."  
  
"I take it that Mr. Snape has already agreed to this."  
  
"He was, understandably shocked to learn of the betrothal, but has agreed to abide by it."  
  
"I see. I will consent to the marriage as per the betrothal contract. I can see no reason as to why not to go ahead with it, and a number of reasons why."  
  
"Good. Then it's settled. Azrael and Severus will be married on the twenty eighth of this month. Arrangements have been made for the rest of Azrael's family to come to Hogwarts for the wedding. Azrael, I wish you luck in your new life and offer my congratulations on your impending nuptials."  
  
"Don't I get any say in this?" I groused, mostly to myself. Unfortunately Schuldig heard me and reminded me that I already did make my choices.  
  
And just like that, the meeting was over. I suddenly found my self at fifteen, pregnant and about to be married. Any plans I might have had for the future were pretty much flushed down the toilet. I might as well forget about graduating and finding my niche in the Wizarding world. I hate my life.   
  
After Note: Engel is German for Angel. Todesengel is German for Angel of Death. 


	2. Chapter Two

Velvet Underworld

By Chyna Rose

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K.R. Weiss Kreuz belongs to Project W. I am neither, therefore I don't own either series.

Rating: PG-13

Status: 2/?

Warning: AU, Mpreg, slash, borderline chan, dark!Harry, language, adult situations.

Spoilers: Harry Potter – up to GoF. Weiss Kreuz – episode 18.

Summary:

Archive: FFN, the archive of the groups this is posted in, and the Void. Anyone else just ask.

Author's Note: This is in response to Blaise's challenge on the harrypottermpreg ML: a What If, if Harry was raised by a family from another book/movie/series. All you need to know about Weiss Kreuz is that Crawford's clairvoyant, Schuldig's a telepath, Farfarello's a psychotic who can't feel physical pain, Nagi is a telekinetic, and the four of them work as a mercenary/assassin team. Anything between two 's denote telepathic communication. Feedback is appreciated. Flames are laughed at.

Morning sickness. There's nothing else quite like it in the world. The nausea and vomiting hitting you randomly throughout the day; triggered by common and often unavoidable things. And there is **nothing** to stop it. If there was a way, it would've been discovered ages ago. Not that I got any sympathy from my dormmates. They seem to take delight in my suffering; seeing what will set off a bout of morning sickness, then laughing when I make a run for the bathroom. Of course these are the same immature jerks who make fun of the girls when they're having their period, so it's not just me. Let's just say that they are lucky that I promised Crawford that I wouldn't curse them. Not that I'm not sorely tempted to.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Pride of Slytherin."

"Hello Weasley. I'd love to stop and chat, but as you can see, I'm a little busy right now. Maybe we could do this when I'm not puking my guts out – say some time in February."

Ronald Weasley. In another life, we might've been friends. He's one of the most friendly and outgoing people I've ever met – even if he does act immature most of the time. Unfortunately, he has one of the worst prejudices I've ever seen. That, or he's living in his own little world; separate from the rest of us. Back in first year, I met Ron and his family while waiting for the train that would take us to Hogwarts. During the train ride, Ron and I got to talking about pretty much everything. He seemed pretty amazed that I didn't know much of anything about the Wizarding world; being raised by Muggles and all. We got along like a house on fire; telling each other everything we could think of about our respective lives. That was until the Sorting Ceremony. Ron seemed to take my being sorted into Slytherin as a personal affront. Like I did it on purpose to make him look bad. Never mind that it was an impartial third party that made the decision.

Ever since then, he has been trying to get back at me for my 'betrayal'. After about the hundredth time he got hit with his own hexes (thanks to a nifty little charm I found that reflects hexes and curses back to the caster), he stopped trying to use magic against me and resorted to insults. I still one up him on a regular basis (which drives him completely mad; as short a trip as it might be), and he's still convinced that I'm using dark magic to do so. Apparently he still hasn't grasped the concept of instant karma – or the fact that he's the one responsible for making himself look like an idiot and an asshole.

"That's too bad. Just too, too bad. 'Course that's what's to be expected from a filthy little faggot."

There are time when I wonder how Ron manages to function. Case in point. He gives me flack for being gay – and then turns around and accuses me of sleeping with his sister (as lovely a girl as Ginny is, she just isn't my type. Nor am I hers). In his head, strangely it works out. However, it completely defies logic in the real world.

"And how is Bill doing these days?"

"Don't you **dare** say things about my brother!" Ron pretty much shouted – ignoring the fact that I hadn't actually said anything about him. Not that I designed to point this out to him. For some reason (lack of intelligence perhaps), Ron does not do well with semantics. Few things will cause him to loose his temper faster. Coupled with the implied 'slight' against his family…

"So what brings you here Weasley? It's obviously not to use the facilities. Unless you have a kink you wish to confess."

Unfortunately, the jest (which I couldn't help saying. I just can't ignore an opening like that) flew right over Ron's head. He didn't even have the courtesy to fly into a rage on the general principle. Quite disappointing really. But then, this **was** Ron we were talking about.

"I just wanted to thank you for getting Snape sacked. High time the greasy git got what he dissevered; Dumbledore should've let him rot in Azkaban if you ask me."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. I didn't ask him. Hell, I **never** ask him. And it's not even like he's been telling me something new. Ron's dislike of Professor Snape was legendary. Not helped by the fact that Professor Snape didn't suffer fools in any capacity, and Ron was often a fool. Not that I blame him. Potions is a lot like Muggle chemistry; a lot can go wrong and kill you if you aren't careful. Ron, along with most of the other Gryffindor fifth years can't seem to grasp this. Which I guess says something about Gryffindor. Not that I think that all Gryffindors are brainless idiots now and forever in propriety. But it does make one wonder if there's something in the air in their vaunted tower.

With a flush I stood while Ron just gloated in imagined triumph over his most hated of teachers. In fact, he was still standing there with that insipid grin on his face when I headed off for class. Sometimes (make that most of the time), I wonder how Hermione puts up with him.

By some odd twist of fate, I wasn't the only one pregnant. True, I was the only **guy**, but about a score of girls also found themselves in a 'delicate situation'. It all boils down to a bowl of mulled cider and someone's nasty idea of a joke. At some point during the night, and unknown party had slipped an unknown substance into the mulled cider that was being served as punch at the Halloween Dance. The cider, whether by intent or miscalculation, had become a fertility enhancer; working its magic on whoever drank it and then had sex that night. It had overcome every single form of contraception from spells, to potions, to Muggle inventions like the condom. It even managed to overcome the stranglehold of biology. Had any other guy who drank the cider decided to play bottom that night, then I'm sure that I wouldn't be the only pregnant guy. A quirk of fate as it were.

With so many students pregnant, a new class was created. Oh, we still slept in our usual dorms and ate (when the very thought of food didn't turn our stomachs) with our houses, but our classes were taken together. Certain precautions had to be taken. Lessons formulated so as not to hurt our unborn children in the thousands of seemingly innocuous ways that existed. Theory replaced practicals when the chance of something going wrong was a major factor. And all subjects had one glaring thing in common; our pregnancy and impending motherhood. We learned which potion was used to ease a baby's teething, how to transform a dish towel into a bib, how to charm a dirty diaper clean, and why you hid a small lump of iron somewhere in the cradle. We were also given lessons that I can only describe as a mutated Home Ec. and health class; what to expect from the pregnancy, the birth, how to care for the baby and the home. Things my mother would've taught me had I been a girl born to a traditionalist. And then I'd get private instruction during my much longer check ups with the midwife and Madame Pomphrey (the resident mediwitch) because I was a boy, and it's different for boys.

"So how did your meeting with the Headmaster go?" Hermione asked me. In a move that has been labeled as classic Gryffindor, Hermione has set aside House rivalries in the name of Shared Experiences and befriended me. After all, it was the noble thing to do since I had no friends and had been at the mercy of a professor.

"About as well as can be expected."

I think some of Ron's hatred towards me, at this point anyway, is the fact that I get on reasonably well with his girlfriend. That is to say, I don't follow the (supposed) Slytherin prejudices when it comes to her. Hermione, you see, is what is known as a Muggle born witch. That is to say that she was born into a Muggle family. Slytherin is the house of the blood elite; those who think that the further back your magical ancestry goes, the better. It is not a philosophy that I hold any weight with, but because I'm in Slytherin, it is assumed that I do.

It is an odd thing, this purity and importance of blood. Both my biological parents were wizards, yet I was raised by Muggles. As far as Wizarding society is concerned, I'm a half-blood as my mother was a Muggle born. And that still doesn't explain the why. Oh there are muttered references to the intolerance and hatred of the Middle Ages; the burnings and inquisitions. But that doesn't explain the whys. A witch is a witch is a witch. And the other persecuted groups from that time – the homosexuals, the Jews, the pagans, and the Satanists – don't share this historic arrogance and hatred. Maybe it's a class thing. But that doesn't seem right either. Or maybe the answer's right in front of me and I just didn't have the right upbringing or pedigree to see it.

"So they're ok with this?" she asked, gesturing vaguely at my midsection. One of the problems with Hermione is that she expects everything to fall into a set pattern. I am a guy. What passes for my parents are Muggles. I am pregnant. This is impossible in the Muggle world. Therefore they had reacted badly and went into a panic of denial when they were told that I was pregnant.

"Well, they weren't exactly happy about it if that's what you mean. After all, I'm only fifteen; still just a child myself really."

Hermione just nodded even though her expression said 'that wasn't what I meant and you know it'. Muggle or wizard, teen pregnancy was a touchy issue. Even the purest of the purebloods – the Malfoys, the Parkinsons, the Zambinins, the Goyles – waited until the youngest of the pair had finished their primary schooling before finalizing the arranged marriage with a wedding. There are some things that are truly universal.

I had of course heard the rumors. In a place like this, it was virtually impossible not to. If a lie can travel around the world before the truth can even get its boots on, then a rumor's already back sipping tea before a lie can close the front door. The Grangers, Hermione's parents, are Muggles, and subsequently know little to nothing about Wizarding culture – which seems to sometimes be stuck in the Victorian era. Mr. and Mrs. Granger grew up in nineteen sixties London. So when they learned that their teenaged daughter had gotten herself pregnant, they did what any sensible Muggle parent would do. They offered to take her to the local health clinic for an abortion.

You could guess what kind of an uproar this caused. In a population with such a low birth rate – especially amongst the pure bloods – every child is precious. Even thinking about doing such a thing can get you labeled a murderer. But as I said, Mr. and Mrs. Granger are Muggles and can be forgiven for not understanding. They just wanted what was best for their daughter – and that meant knowing all the options open to her. She agreed to marry Weasley, although I'm sure she has plenty of second thoughts about that. Why she ever agreed to sleep with him in the first place…

Hermione kept looking at me in a battle of wills. Like I'd actually cave under her stare. I've held my own against Dumbledore and Crawford. Why wouldn't I hold against a fifteen-year-old witch.

Before the staring contest that was our battle of wills could drag on any further, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil burst in all excited. This wasn't unusual; both girls had a tendency to over dramatize silly little things. But it was enough to distract Hermione into rolling her eyes. Parvati and Lavender are the kind of girls that make me glad to be gay.

"You'll never believe what we just saw in the Great Hall!" Parvati (or was it Lavender?) exclaimed excitedly.

"Strangers! Two of them. They were just standing there, gawking at the ceiling like they'd never saw magic before" Lavender (or was it Parvati?) continued.

They didn't… They wouldn't… Dread began to fill my stomach. Ignoring the fact that class was about to start, I tore out of there towards the Great Hall. I had to find out for myself. I mean, Lavender and Parvati were known to blow things out of proportion. And the ceiling in the Great Hall **is** one impressive bit of enchantment.

"The vault of heaven brought into mortal reach; the work of God created by man. The wonder of it to all privileged enough to gaze upon its splendor. My Angelic Death is truly blessed."

Oh **hell** no.

After Note: The bit about the truth, a lie, and rumor was inspired by a line in The Truth by Terry Pratchett. Mostly it was me adding the bit about rumor.


End file.
